In Silence, A Thousand Words
by belladonna78
Summary: As Joe Dredd prepares for another day in law enforcement, he doesn't do so alone. A look behind the scenes at what no one else gets to see. Dredd/OC. The morning of the movie... the evening after... and some moments in between.
1. Chapter 1 - In Silence A Thousand Words

I got a little carried away after watching Dredd - yes I'm on a Karl Urban kick - mmmf that man. This just had to be written. What happens to the man as he becomes the Judge? This is the day of the movie; Chapter 2, when I write it, will be his return home.

* * *

 **IN THE SILENCE; A THOUSAND WORDS**

* * *

She wakes early, always before him. Showers first, dresses, twists her hair into a long plait and then knots it at the base of her neck. She moves with ease through their small apartment, quiet, sure in her movements. She takes her time, never in a hurry as she is always in sync with him. As he wakes, she passes him with fresh towels, enters the bathroom to set the water to his preferred temperature – hot, with a tinge of cold to take off the burn. When the room is filled with steam, he joins her, presses his lips to the back of her neck in silent gratitude.

She hums softly in the back of her throat, closes her eyes and leans back into his embrace, sliding her hand up through his messy brown locks. He needs a haircut, but they didn't have time in the last three days of respite, they were busy making other memories. His arms tense around her, and he grunts softly with satisfaction as she turns her head to kiss his stubbly cheek, then hands him soap and a wash cloth before leaving.

As he showers, she sets to making their breakfast. Poached eggs – one luxury she indulges them in. She sets shredded potatoes to sizzling in the fry pan, and toasts rye bread under the grill. Butter isn't easy to come by, but she traded some in the quarter for saving a man's life, so she smears it liberally on the hot bread, smiling to herself.

She can hear the shower running in the adjacent room, knows what he looks like with the water running down over his hard, firm body. Can trace each and every scar with precision, and knows what caused them. As the water bubbles on the stove, she watches the eggs with the eyes of a hawk, waiting for them to reach the perfect balance of firm and runny. The water stops. She never interrupts him during this time. He will start to become lost to her, now. She knows the exact moment he disappears, savours the moments they have left.

When he joins her in the tiny nook where they have a small table and two chairs, she has already set the table, and their breakfast awaits. He has started to dress: leather pants cling to his thighs, a tight black sleeveless undershirt hugs his chest. He doesn't say a word as her eyes roam over his latest wounds, assessing; she will determine whether he needs a dressing changed before he leaves, or another shot of pain killers, even though his eyes will protest when she offers – he doesn't want his reflexes to be slowed from their side effects.

Silence. Together they relax in the company of the other, their eyes speaking louder than any words ever could. Small gestures: the brush of her hand along his forearm as she pours him coffee; the dance of his fingers along hers as he reaches for the salt; the slow, steady breathing as they both watch each other for what could be their last moments together. It is a waltz that they have taken years to perfect, one that didn't come easy in the beginning, and even now takes great discipline to execute.

He licks his lips and smiles his appreciation as he finishes, she meets his gaze, eyes dropping down to his knuckles. His eyes harden and he stares defiantly at her, she narrows her eyes. His face sets into a scowl, his mouth turning down at the corners as is his well-known trademark, she doesn't give an inch. He sighs and nods, she rises to her feet to collect the med kit from the closet.

With practiced skill, she takes gauze and wipes at his bruised knuckles with antiseptic cream. The shower has caused them to swell a little, and the purple discoloration is more pronounced. She takes a bandage and looks him in the eye, raising an eyebrow – an order for him to comply. His mouth lifts at the corner in a rare expression of amusement, then he lifts his hand, allows her to wrap the knuckles until she is satisfied that they will be protected under the gloves he wears. He flexes his hand, then balls it into a fist to ensure that he has full movement under the bandage, nods once when he is happy with the result.

Next is the jacket, while he slips on his gloves, she turns toward the bed where she had laid it out earlier on her side. He grunts softly, trying to hide the tenderness around his ribs that only she has borne witness to in the last few days. She doesn't say a word, allows him to take his time, sucking in a few deep breaths as he slips his arms into the sleeves and she positions the jacket across his shoulders. She turns him to face her, attaches the zipper together and grits her teeth against the jarring sound of the metal joining as she pulls it up to his throat.

His eyes lock with hers, dark, filled with mixed emotion as he slips a hand behind her neck, pulls her forward so he can kiss her temples. She sighs softly as his lips press to her skin, and she secures his belt, laden with a day stick, knife, grenades and other weapons around his waist. For a moment she locks her arms around him, pulling his body toward her.

He circles his arms around her shoulders, holding her for as long as she needs, until she pulls away and moves to lift his external armour plates, helping him slip them over his shoulders. She places her hands on his chest, feeling the smooth, hard surface of the protective gear – it reassures her, although she has seen it buckle once or twice from one attack or another. Her hands rest there for a moment, only a brief second in time, but it is like this every time. He will take the final walk alone.

Opening a drawer in the centre of the dresser, he picks up his lawgiver. The room is suddenly filled with the click and whirring of the gun as it reads the DNA off his hand, confirms that he is the authorised user of the weapon, before he holsters it at his side. These are their final moments together. She swallows back the lump in her throat, refuses to show him her bottled emotions. She walks him to the door, and he turns one last time to look at her from guarded eyes.

His mouth twists into a half sneer as he struggles not to say good bye. She nods at him, her lips pursed in a straight line as she puts all her love for him into the look she shares with him. Then she hands him the helmet. He lifts it with both hands, watching her until the helmet covers the top half of his face, and his preparations are complete. She watches as Joseph disappears behind a mask. He is now focused on the day to come, the dangers that lie beyond their door. He has become Dredd, the jury, the executioner… the Judge.

Then he is gone, the door closed behind him as she rests her forehead against the smooth metal, and sends a prayer up to whatever God might still be listening. She knows it is foolhardy to pray for his safety when he is walking head first into it, so she says the only thing she can: _keep him breathing,_ she says silently to the wind, _bring him home._


	2. Chapter 2 - In The Beginning

AN: I've been without internet for a month after a I moved - totally sucked! So good to be back online. I have half a _Stars Are Blind_ update written, and about the same with the next _Supernatural_ update too - so they're coming people! Unfortunately I've been unable to put a lot of time and effort into writing as I got pneumonia at the same time as I moved, and have also been dealing with some work issues. Not to mention study resumed last week. But, onward we go. This was pretty much done, so it's an easy update :) I hadn't planned on getting into the backstory of Dredd and his mystery woman, but sometimes there's a story that just wants to be told... I hope you enjoy, and I do Dredd's personality justice. Please leave a review, it encourages me to keep writing.

* * *

 **IN THE BEGINNING**

* * *

The screeching sirens overhead split her ears as she ducks behind a half collapsed cement wall. She clasps a worn med kit to her chest, the one thing that is worth more than her weight in gold on this block. Gunshots fire from behind her, and she flinches at how close they sound: the echo makes it seem as if her assailants are directly behind. More gunshots, this time more consistent. _Judges_ she thinks to herself. The lawgivers draw the attention of the gang, and she dares to peek around the small cement wall. She stays low, hidden from potential attack. The area is clear.

In these blocks, residents learn to stay close to the ground. With well groomed knees and a crouch designed to keep her crouched, she scoots across the open clearing to a familiar doorway. The old wooden barrier hangs off hinges that pull away from the wall, rendered useless for any defensive purpose. Dust falls off the wall as she squeezes through the slim opening and into the darkened room beyond.

As her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, she moves through the building, deeper into the interior. She walks quickly through broken corridors. The air, laden with dust lit up by the holes in the ceiling, seems like an impenetrable fortress. She hates this place, the skylights above that tell tales of a time before this: where life held something more than disease, starvation and an untimely death. She glances ruefully at the broken out windows while she passes underneath them, and her heart aches for the children who would never know anything else.

She moves almost silently, the only indication of her presence is the soft sound of her leather boots, as they crunch on the debris underfoot. Her task is simple - get to the medical centre within the city border block, and administer the pain medication within her rucksack. It is a humanitarian mission, there is no treatment for the cancer people develop as a result of living too close to the radiation border wall. The best she can hope for is to use the medication, manage the pain of the suffering, and give them a better passing than they could otherwise hope for.

There had been three Judges to escort her into the block this month. No one comes here if they have a choice. She struggles even getting the medication to help the dying, let alone someone to escort her safely to the clinic. She startles at the loud burst of gunfire outside the building and moves to look out an unbroken dust speckled window. A lone figure moves below in the courtyard: a Judge. From her viewpoint, she can see five gang members. He is aware of at least two; engaged in a gunfight from his position behind a short wall. Three more have circled around, their objective seeming to be to flank him while he was distracted.

"Oh no," she mutters, pushing at the window sill. It's painted shut. She slams her palms against the frame, trying to force the glass open, but it doesn't budge. Looking urgently around her, she reaches for a fallen brick from a damaged wall. She can break the window, but it will give away her position to anyone else in the area… with no guarantee it would help the a deep breath, she looks at the man as he fires three shots and two of his targets fall to the ground.

His tenacity is admirable, he is good at what he does. The other men are almost within range, she curses, weighting the brick in her hand, and then smashes it through the window - the sound of breaking glass ricochets down to the courtyard as she sticks her head through the opening, looking down at the helmeted man who glances up at her. She can't read anything in his expression for the visor covering his face, but she doesn't have to, she knows she has his attention. His and everyone else's in the courtyard.

"Behind you!" She yells at the Judge, and he immediately changes his stance to defensive, extending his lawmaker in front of him. "Three!" He doesn't acknowledge her, though she knows anyone would have heard her: she needed to move, now. The gang members let off a spread of gunfire at the window, and she jumps back against the far wall of the passage.

"Move!" The order comes from below, she has no doubt it is intended for her. She forces her legs to take a few steps, ducking down and staying low as she hurries along the length of the corridor. She reaches inside her bag for pepper spray, knows it isn't going to help much in a gunfight, but she has never been able to take a life with a gun. She takes a moment to calm her breathing, peeps around the corner and when the coast is clear, starts to walk quickly toward the stairs.

An explosion rocks the building and the walls around her start to shake. She stifles a startled cry, looking in the direction of the plaster that rains from the ceiling. Behind her, she hears shouts, and makes the decision to go down. Her only chance is to get to the Judge, make it the three buildings over to the medical clinic. It was defendable, the gangs gave up once they were in there as the medicine was generally gone within the first hour of her arrival: or at least, that's the story that got released.

As she reaches the middle landing, the door below crashes open with a splintering sound of metal against wood. She jumps back against the wall, hearing the whirr of a lawgiver as it fires off two heat seekers and the body of the man who had kicked in the door is thrown against the opposite wall. She sees the black armour of the Judge appear in the entrance, and then he is in front of her, pursed lips sneering as he looks down.

"Where is it?" He asks. She licks her lips, hesitating and then holds up the medibag in her arms. His lips press together; if she had to pick an emotion based on just that facial feature, it would be frustration… anger. He knew as well as she did that they were outnumbered. This had never happened before, someone had leaked information that she was arriving today.

"And the medical centre?"

"Three buildings over, basement," she answers. He moves next to her, glances at her pepper spray.

"Where's your gun?"

"I don't have one," she replies.

"You should."

"I'm a doctor," she says.

"Doctors still die."

He stalks past her, peering out a shattered window and then inclines his helmeted head to his right. She feels like she has just been reprimanded by her father, who had desperately tried to get her to learn a weapon for self-defence. She followed silently, watching the set of his shoulders as he moved, self-assured and determined.

"How many more are there?" She asks. He ignores her, stepping into the next building and waves her beside him. He stops to look down at her and she realises how closely they are pressed together, his lips twist into a irritated sneer as she repeats her question.

"Enough." He answers curtly.

"Where is your back-up?" She questions, looking around for other Judges assigned to escort her into the Block.

It's impossible to see what he's truly thinking behind the visor, but she can read the set of his lips easily enough. His mouth flattens into a thin line for a moment, before he breaks what she can only assume was eye contact on his part, looking in the direction they need to move.

"Dead."

"Oh," she breathes, only minorly surprised by this revelation. _What had she been expecting?_ "I'm sorry."

"Hazard of the job," he replies, checking the clip of his gun and reloading. "We need to move."

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, she wanting to speak to still the racing of her mind, him with a clear, impossible to mistake, set to his shoulders that commands her to follow, listen and learn.

One glance back tells her that he's aware of something she isn't. "Get ready, stay behind me, keep your head down, and move as I move. Either we get through the next few moments, or not at all, understand?"

It's the most he's ever said to her, and he's explained in a nutshell his expectations and what is about to happen. They're about to encounter a large group of killers. She nods, gulping back the fear in her throat, wondering if her eyes are as wide as they feel to her.

He places his back to her, turning his head to the left he looks to her and waits. She steps up as close to him as possible, feeling the press of her chest into his back. How he is going to be able to function with her that close, she doesn't know.

"Keep a hand on my back so I know where you are at all times."

She nods, even though he's already turned away, and presses her trembling left hand to the middle of his back. There's not a lot to feel under the armour he's wearing, but she senses his body respond just the same, the muscles bunching slightly.

Then they are moving. Together, a synchronised unit, out through an open courtyard where he fires twice, three times, and two men fall from a rooftop across the breezeway. He spins to his right and she dances behind him, staying low, the medkit cradled in her right arm, while her left hand remains locked to his back.

Everything moves in slow motion, the whir of the lawgiver in his hand, the sound of men yelling as they are fired upon and take a hit, the whoosh of the air as a bullet flies past her head - saved only by the Judge reaching back and pushing her one step to the side. She looks into that visor, seeing only her own reflection, but for a moment they exchange an understanding and then he is guiding them to the open doorway of the building next door.

They don't stop to take in the damage, but she knows it was immense. At least four, maybe five had been killed as they crossed that courtyard, and there will be more inside.

The Judge fires through a wall ahead of them, a man falls out dead from behind it. Another click, and then a heat seeker is sent flying through an archway to their left: a man screams and she heads the sound of sizzling flesh, followed by the putrid smell of burning skin and hair.

Up a flight of stairs to the second floor, then down a small gangway to the building beyond. She is breathing hard, the fear clutching at her chest. She isn't afraid to die, it's the how in the moments before that she knew all too well were not pleasant in this world - especially for women.

The gunfire has tapered off, they move faster through the corridors of the ground floor toward the medical centre. She hasn't removed her hand from the Judge's back, and he hasn't asked her to. It's a comfort, knowing he's there, and she feels a trust in him that is unwarranted given they don't even know each other.

"It's through the next building," she says, recognising their surroundings. He grunts and pushes through the last door, then flies back into her with the single sound of a rifle firing.

"Oh my god!" She exclaims as they both hit the ground, and he rolls, pulling her with him until they are behind cover. The Judge is immediately on his feet, his lawmaker in hand, though she notes with careful observation that his left arm is hanging beside him, unmoving. "You're hurt."

"I'll live," he responds, peering out through the window in search of their attacker.

"Let me treat you," she insists, starting to run a hand over his chest. The bullet has penetrated his shoulder at a seam between his chest and shoulder armour - an unlucky shot for him. There is a river of blood running down over his uniform. She pulls a gauze bandage from the medikit and applies pressure. Another bandage and she's managed to stop her protector from bleeding to death - the bullet would need to wait until they reached the medical centre.

"We need to move."

The Judge's lips are twisted into a grimace of pain, but he holds it in, does his duty.

"Can you call for extra back up?"

"We did, when it started," he replies.

"Then where...?"

"They didn't make it."

"This is bad," she acknowledges, the blood draining from her cheeks.

"Let's get the job done."

Nodding, she licks her lips, watching as he subconsciously mirrors the action. She points to the door across the breezeway, glances back at her escort. "There. We're so close."

As if on cue, the door opens a crack and she sees the head of a young girl peek out at them. The Judge notices too, and starts to move.

"Now!" He orders, crossing the courtyard, gun extended out and up at the rooftop where the shooter had to be. Another bullet whizzed past them, but this time he was prepared, pushed them both down, and they scooted to safety, the girl opening the door and then slamming it closed behind them.

"Wow! You made it!" The little waif says excitedly, clapping her hands. She can't be more than six or seven years old.

"Thanks to you," the doctor replies, smiling at her. "I'm Dr Shaw. What's your name?"

"Cassandra," she answers. "Cassandra Anderson."

Beside them the Judge sits heavily on a table, surveying their surroundings. "How thick is that door?"

"They won't come through it, if that's what you're asking," Cassandra replies. "Once the doctors get in here they give up."

"Why?"

"Because the drugs are gone within the hour," Shaw replies. "We only bring enough for the dying."

"Smart."

He seems to relax at this news and she is able to take a moment to look at his wound as several of the workers from the clinic arrive and take the drugs to be administered. "What's your name?" She asks, pulling the gauze back to see a fresh redness start welling in the wound.

The man smirks at her, and she raises an eyebrow. "Come on, even Judges have names."

"Are you going to get this thing out of me, or not?" He asks, changing the subject.

"I am. Just thought I'd get the name of my patient first," she quips in reply, moving to the other side of the room they are in. It's a makeshift surgery, used for triage. She decides for his bullet wound it's as good as any. Going through a cupboard, she pulls out sterile surgical tools and some more bandages and needle and thread.

"Besides, I owe you a thank you, would be nice to know who I'm thanking." She goes to remove his helmet and he flinches backwards, his good hand coming up to grab her wrist.

"It stays on."

"You're safe here," she says, frowning.

"It stays on."

"Whatever you say," she replies as the girl watches with intrigue. Shaw looks at her and smiles. "Why don't you run along and help the others." The girl nods with big blue eyes and then skips off into the other room.

"Listen," she says as soon as they are alone. "I get it. You're tough. The big bad Judge with a badass attitude to match. You saved my life, and you just made dying a lot more comfortable for at least a dozen people in that other room. So, I'm going to ask you again… _what is your name_?"

She didn't know why it was so important, it just was. She _had to know._ If she were being honest with herself - which she wasn't, she was firmly sticking this in denial - she might have developed a little crush on the Judge, who had the most kissable lips she'd ever seen. Her desire to pull that helmet off and see if he had a face to match was almost unbearable.

He watched her, and then smirked again, his mouth turning upward. "Dredd."

"Judge Dredd?" She asked skeptically, receiving a slight nod. "Well no wonder you don't want anyone to know, that's perfectly depressing."

His lips wavered, she saw him try not to give in, but then for a moment she saw a smile. She fell in love instantly.

"Well Doctor," he said softly. "I guess that rules out proposing… _Doctor_ Dredd, has an even worse ring to it."

She burst into a slightly hysterical laugh, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. _Oh boy._ His mouth curled into an amused expression, as if he could read the desire emanating from her. She started to busy herself with releasing his shoulder armour, and then setting up the surgical tools for removing his bullet. All the while he watched her in silence, and she berated herself for even thinking about him in any other fashion than a protector. He was just doing his job. She would be insane to think it was anything else, she knew that as surely as she knew the next few moments would be painful for him. He clearly lived a very dangerous life, one that necessitated running into danger on a daily basis.

No. Falling in love would be crazy.


	3. Chapter 3 - First Kiss

**1 YEAR LATER**

His laugh. It was melodic, and she couldn't help but smile whenever it escaped those terse lips. It was rare, and he was always careful not to show a friendly side to the public. He survived off his reputation, and she understood that.

"Doc," he said as she lingered in the door of the hover vehicle that had brought them to the Justice Department. Immediately his professional facade was back on, she was always thrown as to how easily he was able to flip between the two. As far as she knew, she was the only person who ever saw the personal side.

"Thank you," she said, taking his hand and stepping on to the sidewalk. He squeezed it before letting go, and she knew that her nerves were showing in the way her hands shook.

It seemed only a short amount of time later and she was standing in front of a Chief Judge and five Senior Judges in a circular room. A lectern was situated in the centre of a semi-circle bench, and she took a deep breath as they all stared at her.

Dredd's demeanour gave nothing away. His face impassive, mouth set in a hard line, as he stood guard at the only entrance to the area she was standing. She found herself wanting to run from the room, tell him to take her away - far away from all the danger they'd experienced of recent weeks. It was only his dedication that had kept her alive, she knew that.

"Doctor Shaw," the Chief Judge started. "Tell us about the events occurring two months ago in your hospital."

It was all a blur to her. Her report on the organ leggers, and the infiltration she had uncovered in one of the hospitals she worked in. It had put her life in danger, and Dredd had been assigned to her as a protector.

That evening as they reached her apartment block, she was trembling and this didn't go unnoticed by the Judge.

"Have you considered getting a new residence?" He asked as the doors to the elevator closed.

"I wouldn't be safer anywhere else," she replied, forcing her voice to steady. She honestly believed it. Until the leaders of the organ leggers were locked away for good, she would not be able to resume her work without a threat upon her life. Depending on how deep the investigation went, she knew that she faced the possibility of needing to go underground, change her identity - a facial reconstruct even. She was hoping it didn't come to that.

Dredd reached out and pushed the emergency button on the elevator, it lurched to a stop and she gasped lightly, not having expected it. Stepping into her, he towered over the doctor. Her lip trembled softly as she looked up into the visor covering his face.

"What is it?" She asked, sensing a change in his demeanour.

He swallowed, and then his mouth twisted up slightly at the side. "I have an idea," he said finally. "You're coming with me."

Half an hour later, she was standing in a simple one bedroom apartment. Galley kitchen to the left, living room straight ahead with a small dining nook, and to the right was the bedroom and bathroom.

"This is a really… really bad idea," she muttered under her breath as Dredd stalked down the hallway to the bedroom door, flipping light switches as he moved. Her heart was thundering in her chest.

"Make yourself at home," Dredd's voice called out and startled her out of her revelry. She was in Judge Dredd's apartment! _His home_. They'd taken several back alleys to get here, so clearly this was not something that was well known to the general public. Dredd's reputation for privacy was clearly well earned.

On shaky legs, she took a few steps down the hall, finding herself near a loveseat under a window. As she looked out over the city, she realised they had come up almost one hundred floors. Turning, she gasped, finding herself face to visor.

"You're jumpy for someone who is perfectly safe," he stated plainly.

"I uh… well it's been a tough few… months," she replied, her eyes fixated on those lips. The most kissable lips she'd ever seen. She darted her tongue out to moisten her own lips, which had suddenly gone dry.

"Something to eat?" He asked, she shook her head, still staring at his mouth. He grinned slightly, and she felt herself start to blush.

They'd danced around an attraction for months now. She had already told him how thankful she was that he'd been the Judge assigned to her protection after he'd saved her life on the outer block. He'd expressed similar feelings, stating that he wouldn't trust her life with any other.

"Would you like to go to bed then?" He suggested, and she wondered if he was going to be joining her.

She couldn't trust her voice, instead she simply nodded. A woman of bountiful words, and he drove her to silence, she could scarce believe it was so.

As she prepared herself for bed, wandering around his sparsely decorated room, she trailed fingers across the dresser where nothing but a mirror adorned. Her reflection showed off the softness of her skin - kept supple with a daily application of coconut oil. Playful eyes revealed their weariness in the candlelight, and she blinked back a few tears of exhaustion when the door opened to reveal Dredd's silhouette.

"I brought you some tea," he said. She noticed that he hadn't even started to undress, and here she was in a floor length nightgown, ready to slide between the sheets - _and take him with her_ , the thought popped unbidden into her mind.

"Thank you," she said, moving to take the cup from him. The warmth from the ceramic mug spread through her fingers and she was grateful for two hands, because they were shaking so much she otherwise would have dropped the tea within seconds.

"I'll stay in the other room," he said, causing her to look up in consternation.

"No!" The word rang out harsh and loud, she cringed internally at how completely her emotions were betraying her. "No…" she said again, this time softer. "Please, stay with me."

"Doc, you'll get better rest without sharing a bed," he insisted.

"No," she said, moving her arm out to the side and placing the tea on the dresser. Before she could talk herself out of what she was about to do, she reached up and grasped his cheeks in her hands, simultaneously pulling his lips down to meet hers as she raised herself up on tiptoes.

He didn't resist as she pressed her mouth to his. For a moment, she thought he would pull away, and then like the waters parting for Moses, she found his lips open, and she kissed his lower lip, sucking softly before venturing her tongue out to dart across, teasing his own out to play.

A slight groan escaped Dredd's throat as his hands slid around her waist, pulling her into his hardened armour. She wound her arms up around his neck, hands holding his helmeted head as he leaned into the kiss, exploring her mouth thoroughly, as if he'd been waiting to do this for some time.

When they broke apart, she stared up into the impenetrable visor, a frown creasing her brow. She reached up, waiting for his inevitable refusal, and finding that it didn't come. As her hands came to either side of the helmet, she hesitated, licking her lips.

"Go on," he urged.

She nodded, a smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards. As she lifted the biggest barrier to their truly knowing each other from his head, she waited with bated breath to see what was beneath.

Rumours of Dredd's disfigurement had haunted MegaCity One for years. She had told herself that no matter how he looked, she knew she already loved him. She had from the moment he'd smiled at her all those months ago in the outer Block.

In the darkness, there was nothing but the flickering candlelight to reveal deep hazel eyes staring back at her. She bit her lip, grinning at him as he shook his head with an amused expression. His dark hair was in need of a cut, it sat messily upon his head, and she reached out to run her hands through it, mussing it up further.

He was by far the most handsome man she'd ever seen. No scars adorned his face, despite the rumours. His cheeks sported a five o'clock shadow that had put in overtime; she brushed the palm of her hand along the roughness of it, swallowing as she imagined it rubbing against more sensitive areas of her body.

"You know," he said, his hands sliding back around her hips and pulling her closer. "Now that you've seen my face, I'll have to kill you."

She smirked, meeting his gaze straight on, relieved that she was finally getting a look into the real man.

"I can think of worse ways to die," she replied, pressing a finger to his lips and starting to trace them.

"When I told you, that you'd be the death of me… this wasn't what I had in mind," he quipped, and she laughed.

"La petit mort… the little death," she whispered in his ear.

With a growl, he claimed her mouth with his own, firm hands pushing her back to the bed where she nearly buckled over as her knees hit the frame.

"Wait!" She broke away, pushing back against his armour, and he stopped instantly. She could see him struggling between the desire he clearly felt for her, and his duty to protect her. It was obvious to her that the dance they'd done for the last few months had reached its crescendo, and he'd been hoping this would be the outcome of bringing her here.

"I want to see you, to know you..." she said, gesturing to his armour. "All of you."

Dredd paused, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Take it off," she ordered with a half laugh.

He raised his arms out to the side, and then threw her a challenging look. "Ladies first."

With a look of disbelief, she hesitated, knowing fully well she had nothing on under the nightgown. They both knew where this was going, and she had no concerns showing off her body to him. But still she felt shy all of a sudden.

Dropping his arms to the side, Dredd stepped up, lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes. "You're beautiful," he said quietly. Leaning down, he kissed her gently and she found her hands guided to the zips and clips of his armour, each one pulling apart as he continued to lavish her with soft, encouraging lips.

A clunk sounded as the shoulder armour hit the floor. She ran her hands along his chest, under his jacket until she was able to push it off his shoulders, listening as the fabric joined the armour. Ripped muscles met her exploring hands; she pulled his undershirt up, breaking their kiss long enough to rid him of it. He resumed the kiss almost immediately, his hands sliding up into her hair, grabbing a fistful of her thick locks and tugging softly as he moaned to her touches.

She reached down to grasp the fabric at her thighs, pulling it up as they kissed. Finally, as it bared her navel, he pulled reluctantly away, eyes never leaving hers as she tugged on the hem and then quickly removed the garment completely.

He unbuckled his pants and pushed them down, the buckle of his belt echoing through the room as it hit the floorboards. She realised with a start that she might well be the only person who had seen Dredd this exposed in … who knew how long? Did he have other women? The thought left her mind as quickly as it came, she didn't want to know. She just knew she wanted him.

She dared not look down, eyes locked with his as he stepped into her, but she felt his arousal pressed firmly against her stomach, and the promise it offered.

"Joseph," he said softly as he leaned down to nip at her earlobe. "My name is Joseph. And no, there's no one else who's seen this side of me Doc," he added, as if he'd read her mind.

"I didn't…" her protests were stifled as he kissed her again, her body reacting with shudders as his hot palms dragged along her back, pinning her to his chest.

As they fell back onto the bed, she knew without a doubt, that this would be a night she'd never forget.


	4. Chapter 4 - New Beginnings

NEW BEGINNINGS

Her breath seemed overly loud in the large, impersonal room. Bright, and immaculately clean, she looked around her surroundings, eyes falling to the stainless steel benches, the shining petri dishes with specimens of tissue and blood in them. She felt like a science experiment that was about to get terribly out of hand.

Wrapping her hand around the thin metal arm of the chair she was seated in, she attempted to steady her heartbeat, gulping in several deep breaths of stale air. It was too clean, she decided. Like a hospital, after the monthly sterilisation. She wondered how any new life could be born in such an environment.

Doubts raging through her mind, she waited under the fluorescent lighting that buzzed from the ceiling, her knuckles white from her grip on the chair's arm. Outside the stars sparkled just as they always had, cold and distant, and offered no solace for what was about to happen.

The door on the wall furthest from her opened, and two men walked in. One in a white lab coat, his shoulders narrow and spindly. He pushed a pair of thick-rimmed glasses back up his nose, and squinted into the room, muttering to himself.

Beside him, silence. In the familiar garb of a Judge, Dredd's face was covered by the visor he used to not only protect himself from attack, but from identification. His mouth was set to a scowl, and she watched him as the doctor prattled on.

"Highly irregular, I must say," the man said, shaking his head and walking to the centre of the room.

"You have the authorisation form," Dredd answered him, receiving several fast nods in reply.

"Yes, yes, everything is in order, I agree."

"Then let's get started."

Dredd's statement left little room for argument. The man looked up at her, frowning slightly, and then shook his head and scurried off to a corner, looking over some equipment.

She locked eyes with the visor; knew he would be staring at her. One last opportunity to back out. Her heart raced, threatening to implode as she once again weighed the options.

"You can still change your mind," Dredd said, moving to stand beside her.

"Do you want me to?"

She glanced at him, willing an opinion. Anything to tell her that he either approved or disapproved of the decision. He'd left it to her, of course, and she hated him for it.

"Your decision, Doc. Not mine."

It was not the first time she'd heard that. She sucked in a frustrated breath, closing her eyes. Just in this moment, she needed Joseph. But he was lost to her, hidden behind the mask, the identity. Behind Dredd. The man stood impenetrably close to her. She reached out a hand to squeeze his forearm, causing him to break his at-attention stance, looking toward her.

"Nearly ready we are," said the doctor as he wheeled the device over to where she was seated. Quickly she broke contact with Dredd, returning her gaze to the instruments on the machine. "Just a few more adjustments…" He scampered off toward a supply room, and she was left staring at the one thing about to change her world.

Without warning, Dredd's grip on her chin forced her to look at him. Not his eyes, but she knew what she'd see, even if he removed the helmet. His mouth wavered slightly, twisting to reveal his frustration at the whole situation, his anger that she had to go through this at all. She wanted him to tell her that she needed to do this, that he needed her to do this so she would be safe. In truth he'd already said as much without using any words at all.

"It's all right," she said quietly.

"I've spent my whole life meting out justice," he said softly. "This isn't it."

"This is life, Jo...Judge," she replied, correcting herself mid-sentence. It wasn't that people didn't know his name, certainly the Justice Department did, but to them it signalled a different life. One kept in the shadows, behind closed doors. When he was in the uniform, he was known only by one name.

"Have you the template?" The funny little doctor was back, his blue eyes bright and piercing as he peered at her. Dredd nodded, handing him a disc. The doctor clicked his tongue and nodded, turning to place it by the machine.

"Good, good," he said.

"Doctor," Dredd's voice was unexpected as he stood next to the chair. His stance gave nothing away: squared shoulders, hands at the ready by his side, knees slightly bent. "Give us a moment alone, if you would."

The man glanced from Dredd to her, and then shrugged. "As you wish," he muttered, turning on his heel and walking back to the door he'd come from. "I need to gather a couple of things."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dredd's body language softened slightly. She saw a glimmer of Joseph, but knew that she could not rely on that. Until the helmet came off, he was still a Judge.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her again, this time his voice mirroring his body.

"Are you?"

She knew she was avoiding the topic, answering his questions with her own. While she had long resigned herself to what was to happen, there was a heaviness in her chest, one that she told herself was completely neurotic. She held a fear that this would be it. Once she had a new face, a new identity, he was gone. Irrational, maybe. Yet still it persisted.

Dredd sighed slightly and then cleared his throat.

"It does not matter to me what you look like," he said after a moment.

"Everyone says that in the beginning," she whispered.

"Have I ever lied to you?" His visor was staring her down again. Harsh. Unrelenting. There was no give in that statement. No margin for error. She saw her own face reflected back at her, saw what he saw, when he looked at her. Soon it would be a stranger's face staring back at her in the mirror, at him.

"No," she replied, liking her dry lips.

"I'm not about to start now."

The door opened across the room once more, and the bustling energy of the doctor was with them again.

"Well?" He asked as he reached the pair. "Proceed, shall we?"

"I'm ready," she said with a nod.

"Good, good," he nodded in reply. "You understand how the machine works?"

"Yes," she said, looking at the face-changing machine. Dredd had brought it up after the trials were finished. The Justice Department had impounded the machine during a bust on a face-changing parlour many years ago.

While these machines existed, and were able to be used with the correct permits, the underground always found a way to twist technology to their own dark, nefarious needs. Dredd had kept their current plans on a purely need-to-know basis, in case there was a leak inside the Justice Department.

Only three people knew she was here tonight: the Chief Judge, the doctor, and Dredd.

"Will it hurt?" She asked.

"No, no," came the reply. "Painless. Instant. A new you in moments."

She took another deep breath and nodded. As the doctor worked on the settings for the machine, she gripped the chair again and stared at Dredd's straight lined mouth. His lips pursed together in his default expression that, without the eyes to soften and provide context, looked to be locked in a permanent scowl.

He hadn't stopped watching her the whole time the doctor fussed over his equipment, and as the disc containing the blueprints for her new identity was put in place, a glove reached out to take her hand. She looked silently down at the gesture as he laced his fingers through hers, and as the doctor turned to face them, he dropped the intimate embrace, returning to his impersonal stance.

She mustered up a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're not going to recognise me."

Dredd's lips turned up slightly on one side, and she could almost see the raised eyebrow under the dark visor.

"That's the whole point, doc," he replied.

She nodded again, letting out a shaky breath.

"One more thing," the man next to them muttered as he wandered off to the other side of the room.

While the doctor's back was turned, Dredd took her hand in his again and pressed his lips against her knuckles.

"I know you're worried," he said softly, "but I'm right here."

Her voice was only going to betray her. "Everything I've known is about to disappear." Her biggest fear being that he would. She hadn't voiced it in so many words, but he had to know. Dredd's helmeted face was unreadable, but she could tell his displeasure at her line of thought simply by looking at his mouth.

The machine beside her beeped steadily, in stark contrast to her beating heart that was now racing.

"Stop," he ordered.

"I'm terrified."

"I know," he said with a nod, squeezing her hand again. "If you want to change your mind, you can."

She swallowed hard, then shook her head. Too many lives were at risk. Even with the gang of organ leggers in the isocubes after the trial, there were too many they had missed. She needed to protect her family from reprisals. She needed to be dead. There were too many threats to keep her safe, and she couldn't have a Judge signed to her personal protection on a permanent basis.

6%. Only six percent of call outs could be answered. Her involvement with the Judges at all was, on the surface, a miracle. She was starting to wonder if it had been destiny. Dredd didn't believe in that.

The crunch over whether or not to change her face, start a new life, had come when Dredd received his orders to return to the streets, his regular duties. Both of them had realised they didn't feel any safer about her being out there, working, living a normal life.

"No," she replied finally as the doctor returned and punched a final sequence into the machine. "This is the best way."

Dredd nodded, still holding her hand as he stood beside her. From the angle where the doctor was, he would only see two people standing close, their hands dropped to the side. She was grateful she could hold Dredd's hand, get a little piece of Joseph, as her world fell away forever.

With a little chortle, like a mad scientist who was completely wrapped up in his work, the doctor applied the wires to her face. She hissed as they dug into her skin, finding the soft tissue beneath her skin.

"Here we are," said the doctor with a beaming smile. "Ready are we? Last chance to change your mind."

It wasn't as devastating as that, she knew, as Dredd himself had undergone the face change in a case in the past - so he'd told her. And they could return her face to her own, should she want to, but that would put them back at square one.

"I'm ready," she said with a nod.

When the face changing machine fired up, there was a momentary flash of orange light from the terminal, and then a rapid succession of beeps before it settled into a steady rhythm. She closed her eyes, and a strange rippling sensation passed through her face.

It felt as if someone had taken her skin - muscles and all, and was kneading it like dough. She gripped Dredd's hand harder. There was no pain, but the sensation of things changing and moving was disconcerting.

Within minutes it was over. The doctor looked her over, nodding and touching her face with the tips of his fingers before pulling the wires away. "Good, good, it is done."

She turned to look at Dredd, who had a slight smile to his mouth.

"Well?"

"Welcome to your new life, Doc," he said with a nod.

"New life! Yes, yes! New birthday you need, perhaps?" The doctor exclaimed with a grin.

"Perhaps," Dredd agreed, stepping away and inclining his head for her to follow. Taking a deep breath, she trudged after the Judge to a far corner of the room while the doctor packed away his machine.

"Stand against that wall," he said, raising his forearm up to point his communicator and camera at her. "Smile."

She complied. There was a quick clicking sound, and he lowered his arm, nodding to himself.

He lifted his head to look at her, and she felt self conscious as her heart raced in anticipation of the rejection she was certain was coming.

"The hair colour is what is most disconcerting," he commented. She looked down, seeing the different shade tumble through her fingers.

"Yeah, that's gonna take some getting used to," she agreed.

"Are you ready to look?"

"No."

He smirked, clearly expecting the response.

"You don't look ready."

The doctor was back with paperwork. "All right, yes, here we are. I need you to sign here, and here. Have you looked in the mirror, are you happy?"

"No."

"But you must see if it was a success!" The doctor said in alarm. She shifted uncomfortably, staring down at her feet.

"It's a success," Dredd declared, much to the doctor's delight. "I'll take the paperwork,' he added, to which the doctor protestingly handed over. She knew Dredd would destroy it once they were free of the medical centre, suspected the doctor knew that as well, but was too scared to do anything else.

"Thank you, doctor," she said quietly, managing a smile. "You've literally saved my life."

"Let's get you home," Dredd said, opening the doorway into the foyer.

* * *

They'd spent an inordinate amount of time getting into a routine whereby she would let herself into his apartment as soon as no one was watching. Other than the first night, they never travelled together in the building unless too much suspicion was aroused. Judges weren't supposed to have relationships. Dredd had told her it happened, but it was frowned upon, and never talked about. Attachment was discouraged, because it led to mistakes on the job. Hesitations that would get you killed.

She reflected on that conversation - so many months ago - as the lift climbed to the ninety-eighth floor. He'd battled for a year with the instant attraction he'd felt for her. It had never been an issue before - the law was his marriage, his relationship, his lover. When he'd found himself with feelings, yearnings, that he couldn't act upon - that had started to distract him. He'd made mistakes. He'd nearly gotten another Judge killed.

All this had culminated in him bringing her back to his apartment, so many months ago, and acting on what he knew was forbidden, but had been the only solution he could see.

Dredd was different.

At the end of the day, the man was able to separate completely from his home life when he was at work. She saw it in the way he would disappear, retreat behind the mask that was Dredd, and in the way he was when he returned home too.

In the weeks when he worked long shifts, they barely saw each other, because he stayed in that persona. She found it too hard to connect with him and they had an unspoken arrangement whereby they would keep to one room or the other, separate. He might slip into her bed during the night, and the sex was always what she would expect from the Judge - carefully considered, routine, quick, a physical encounter only culminating in a release. Itv would end with him returning to his own bed on the couch. It wasn't the Joseph she had grown to love.

Love.

Could she really entertain such a notion with this man? She shook her head and pushed the thought to the back of her mind. The idea had made itself a nest, and like a bird wanting to be fed, popped its head up from time to time. She knew it would come to an end at some point - she couldn't continue to live with him. He couldn't protect her forever, especially now with the trial over. She was expected to return to her life as if nothing had happened. They both knew the danger in that.

With sunglasses and a hat, she found herself warily entering the quiet little apartment that belonged to Dredd. Ten minutes later he arrived as she was boiling a kettle to make tea.

"I have something to show you," he said without any other greeting. He moved into the bedroom and started to remove his armour. It would still take a good day for him to slip back fully into the man underneath the uniform, she knew, but he started to come out of that as soon as the helmet was removed.

Humour, she knew, would bring him out faster.

"Already?" She joked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, looking down at his crotch which did not show any evidence that the man was interested in a sexual encounter. She was still feeling nervous about her new looks - would he feel the same way about her? Dredd pulled his helmet off, his eyes meeting hers with a glint of amusement.

"Later," he said. "This is better."

"Oh, now I am intrigued," she said. She pushed her doubts aside as he gestured for her to follow him into the walk-through closet which opened into the bathroom. He stopped inside the wardrobe, turning to push aside some shirts hanging there (which never got worn) and then reached up to press a button on the top shelf.

Instantly a computer interface on the side of the wardrobe popped out from a hidden panel.

"Here," he said, taking her hand gently in his own and placing it on the screen. "Hand print recognition. You. Me. No one else."

"What have you done?" She asked, watching in amazement as the entire back wall to the wardrobe slid aside, and she stood looking into another, empty, walk in closet.

"My protection of you has ended. I can't explain having you in my apartment should the Justice Department find out," he said, turning to look at her with pragmatic eyes.

"I know, this… this needs to," _stop_...she had been ready to stay.

"Change," he cut in.

She closed her eyes, a smile tugging at her mouth as she heard those words.

"I _need_ you," he said.

He had never been a man to mince his words. He didn't have to, his face told her everything she needed to know. He'd chosen her. He was a man who was so confident in the work that he did, who didn't struggle to define right and wrong, or deliver swift justice. This was a man who knew what he wanted and he took it. She nodded, swallowing hard.

"When did you get all this done?" She asked finally. "And what is this?"

He smirked, stepping past her into the closet beyond. The darkness of the other room swallowed him up easily with the uniform he was still wearing. She hesitated on the threshold, and just as the night when he'd brought her back here for the first time, she felt like she was on the precipice of something big. Combined with the facial change earlier today, shock was hitting her fast.

When he glanced back, she followed, and gazed around her new surroundings in awe.

The room layout was exactly the same as Dredd's, just a mirror image. "It's yours," he said.

She wandered into the bedroom, seeing antique furnishings that were made of lovingly carved wood - a rarity in this day and age. "You arranged all this?"

"Yes."

"When?" She asked, shaking her head. They hadn't exactly been joined at the hip, but she spent a lot of time in his apartment, because she felt safe.

"During the trial," he answered. She nodded, passing her hand over the dresser. It didn't have a speck of dust, someone had been here and cleaned.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking," she pointed out. "Planning."

One nod to his head as he waited for her response.

"Seriously… Joe… what is this?"

"It's our new life," he responded.

"Our?" She gaped at him, shaking her head. "Come again?"

He crossed silently to the dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out identification documents. Only then did it dawn on her how completely thorough he had been. In his hands were ID cards for them both. His face, never seen by anyone else, with a new name. She reflected on the three day break they'd had; he'd let his beard grow out, and it showed in this picture. Even in a photo comparison, it would be hard to pick him as Dredd. Hers had been replaced with the image that he had taken earlier. She still hadn't looked in the mirror.

"This is why you needed… the photo," she said, looking up at him.

"It's all been updated in the central computers," he nodded.

"Joe… this is…"

"A new life."

She nodded, overwhelmed by all the information. "Together?"

He reached a hand out to brush his thumb across her cheek, lovingly caressing over her jaw and then leaned down to kiss her tenderly. Her lips trembled slightly as emotion, tinged with weariness, washed over her body. All the feelings she had been holding back for months, bubbled to the surface, and she grabbed at his hips, using him to steady her shaking knees.

She didn't know what it would mean, but she did know one thing was for certain. They could both come and go from a door in the building that didn't belong to Judge Dredd. And when he needed to show up for work, he could. They could go out, her with a new face, him with his secret identity.

"We can be seen together," she mumbled.

"Yes."

"You've given this a lot of thought."

"I have."

He lifted her up into his arms and crossed to the bed, placing her down on the mattress, looking down over her new features, and her hair strewn about. She stared up at him, vulnerable, searching for the man within. Another kiss to her forehead, her eyes, her new nose, before he pulled back and returned her stare.

She knew the signs, the way his pupils would constrict slightly, coming back to normal and not the slightly dilated adrenaline pumped vision of Dredd. His breathing would change, take on different, more spontaneous rhythm, unlike his careful, controlled and slow breathing as the Judge persona. The dark circle in his eyes wavered for a moment, and she smiled.

"I love you," she whispered. Internally she cringed a little, hoping that it wasn't the wrong thing to say. Was it too soon? Would it push him away? Was he even capable of love? She argued with herself, because the Joe she knew was incredibly capable of affection, of giving more.

He smiled.

She suspected he wouldn't say it back, not yet. He was still Dredd… still slipping back into Joseph.

But his eyes told her enough.

"Happy birthday," he said finally. She laughed, and was relieved to find it sounded the same. Somewhere she'd thought her whole identity would be wrapped up in her face, but as she looked up at him, he stared into her eyes with the same love and care he always had.

"Thank you for my present," she gestured to the room.

His hands trailed along the side of her body as he repositioned himself to lie on the bed beside her. "I'm just getting started," he grinned.


End file.
